Birthdays
by Belle26
Summary: The Lightwoods throw Jace an 18th birthday party.
1. Chapter 1

My friend Lauren agreed to let me base Clary's dress on a dress that she owns, if you'd like to see pictures of it (and a picture of how I imagine Jace to look), they're on my profile page. I hope you enjoy this! :)

**Birthdays**

Clary sat on the edge of her bed, her face in her hands. Today was a disaster. She had been forcibly coerced into a shopping trip with Isabelle and had spent hours traipsing through endless department stores and boutiques. Isabelle would thrust garments at her and usher her towards the fitting rooms where she would proceed to criticise every single one, picking out faults Clary would never have noticed on her own.

"This one makes you look like you have wide shoulders."

"Hmm, the colour washes you out a little bit."

"What a tacky material..."

"Isabelle!" Clary had eventually snapped. "Would you just pick one please? The faster we get my dress out of the way, the more time we'll have to look for yours," she pointed out.

"Don't be silly, Clary," replied Isabelle, rifling through a rail of yet more dresses. "I have my dress. And since you're so sick of borrowing my clothes, I thought we could get you your own for tonight. And anyway -" She held up a hanger. "I think we've found the winner!"

It was this dress that Clary wore now, anxiously envisioning the night to come. It was Jace's 18th birthday and the Lightwoods (partly out of guilt on their part, Clary thought) were throwing him a party. She had a very strong feeling it wouldn't be the kind of party that normal teenagers looked forward to when they came of age. Clary tried very hard to picture Jace at one of the house parties she and Simon had once attended. She failed miserably, but the image of him getting blind drunk and falling down some stairs almost raised a smile. The image of him getting blind drunk and playing 'Seven Minutes In Heaven' with some silly blonde cheerleader did not.

Standing up miserably, Clary contemplated her appearance in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time. Admittedly, the dress Isabelle picked out had been the best of the day. Clary felt that maybe it was the nicest item of clothing she'd ever worn. It was a floor-skimming green satin, almost the precise colour of her eyes. The back dipped low and had criss-crossing straps which looped over her shoulder and met in the middle of the dress at the front.

Isabelle, of course, had taken charge of the hair and make-up. Her vivid red curls had been moussed so that her hair resembled a crown of fire, before being swept to the side and pinned in place. With her already bare back, Clary's neck and shoulders felt oddly cold and exposed. Her eyes had been rimmed in some kind of gold shimmery powder and outlined in black, making them appear oddly prominent. Clary was not used to looking like this, it still surprised her when she caught sight of herself.

She felt overdressed and silly. And she knew that Jace would think she looked overdressed and silly too. She would have attended this stupid party in her jeans and a hoodie if she could, but Isabelle had looked daggers at her when she even flippantly suggested it.

There was a knock on Clary's bedroom door and she went to answer it, hoping she could master walking in her shoes before she arrived at the party. It was Isabelle, looking perfect as always in a tight black dress with her equally black hair swept up in an elegant knot. She looked about five years older. _And I just look like a kid playing in her Mom's dressing up box,_ Clary thought gloomily. She tugged at her dress nervously, but Isabelle was looking her up and down with a satisfied expression.

"I told you it was a winner. Come on, the cab is outside," she said, pulling Clary from the doorway. Clary closed her Institute bedroom door behind her and followed Isabelle down to the foyer area where Alec was waiting. He appraised Clary and his sister was oddly appreciating eyes.

"You both look really nice," he said, a little awkwardly, as though he'd not given a compliment in a while and had forgotten how to do it. Alec himself was dressed all in black, his expensive-looking shirt slightly open at the collar and untucked from his trousers. His lovely dark hair, the same shade as his sister's, had undergone some kind of taming process but still looked a little ruffled. The past few months had seen Alec experience quite the personality transplant – he now loped with an easy grace almost redolent of Jace, but seemed to genuinely smile much more than his adopted brother. Clary wondered whether a certain rainbow-haired warlock were to blame for this transformation.

"So do you, dear brother," said Isabelle, swooping down the rest of the stairs. "Where's Jace?"

"He left about half an hour ago. Guests are already starting to arrive and he had to go and greet them with Mom and Dad," he said, heading for the elevator. Easy conversation continued between the siblings until they reached the front doors, where a taxi was waiting for them. All three of them clambered into the back, Isabelle gave the address to the driver and they were off to what, Clary thought, would surely be a thoroughly uncomfortable night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Maryse had certainly left no expense spared with this party. The guest list wasn't huge by any means, but neither was the room which they'd hired. It was a small underground function room with exposed brick walls and wooden roof beams, from which hung ropes and loops of white fairy lights, illuminating the whole room. Around a small dancefloor were numerous tables, set out ready for a three-course-meal, and a swing band dressed in penguin suits were tuning up on a small stage near the back.

Jace stood with Maryse and Robert near the large staircase which led up to the entrance of the building. A few guests had already arrived, but no one of importance to Jace; just some of the Lightwoods' old Shadowhunter allies, or people who had passed through the Institute. Jace had greeted them politely and watched as they took seats at the tables, sitting in quite close huddles, or took up residence at the bar on the right, which ran the entire length of the room.

The first _real_ guest to arrive was Luke. He looked a little uncomfortable in his smart suit and had even shaved for the occasion. Jace had insisted on the party not being held at the Institute, so that Luke, Magnus, Maia and (it took much cajoling from Isabelle to get him to admit it) Simon could attend. He was genuinely happy that Luke had managed to make it.

"Robert, Maryse," said Luke, as he reached the bottom of the stairs, shaking the Lightwoods' hands in turn. He turned to Jace with such an almost proud, paternal expression on his face that he wondered for a split second if Luke was going to hug him. He didn't, to Jace's relief; just shook his hand also and produced a small wrapped present from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "A little something from the bookstore. Don't complain, I didn't spend a penny on it, but I thought you'd like it."

"You didn't have to, Luke," said Jace, taking the present and privately feeling a little pleased.

"I know, but I wanted to give you at least something. It's one of Clary's favourites."

_Great._ "Thanks." Jace smiled and tried to sound as genuine as he knew he did before. He couldn't tell whether it had worked or not but Luke seemed content enough to go and busy himself at the bar.

More guests began to filter in, Jace greeted them on autopilot. Magnus swept down the stairs looking like he'd been caught in a fight between a rainbow and a pot of glitter.

"Joseph called," Jace said lazily, amused. "He wants his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat back."

"Hilarious, little Nephilim," replied Magnus, rolling his eyes. "I didn't get you a gift because I figured my services to you over the past few months would suffice."

"Of course." Jace inclined his head and Magnus glided as if on wheels towards the bar.

He felt an odd jittery sensation right in the pit of his stomach. He'd never had a birthday before, maybe it was nerves? Jace dismissed the thought. He considered it a week wasted if he hadn't killed at least three demons, why should he be nervous about a birthday party?

His case of the jitters had started long before the party, as he stood in his bedroom in the Institute getting ready. Maryse had told him it would be a formal occasion and forbade him to wear his demon-hunting gear, which had initially annoyed Jace, as he felt he looked his best when he was dressed all in black with angel blades through his belt and Marks up and down his arms. He had eventually settled for a soft white shirt of an expensive material, and charcoal grey trousers. His hair had grown a little since Maryse had taken her scissors to it, but it was not yet long enough for it to look untidy. He thought he scrubbed up rather well. In fact, he _knew _that he did.

It was as he contemplated these nerves that he saw Isabelle and Alec appear at the top of the stairs. They were arm in arm, both looking like they'd stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine. For Isabelle, this was nothing unusual but Alec... Jace couldn't fail to notice the marked difference in him recently. He had always been good-looking but had shied away from it in the past. Now he seemed to be _glowing_ with some kind of inner warmth and – did he just _wink? _Jace was sure his eyes must be deceiving him. Alec didn't _wink_. At least not until lately.

The beautiful siblings floated down the stairs like they were born to attend high society dinner parties and Isabelle was at Jace's side immediately, kissing him on both cheeks and almost choking him on some kind of expensive perfume.

"Happy birthday," she beamed. Isabelle's megawatt smile, when turned up to its full power, could knock males off their feet. Jace had seen it himself. It was a good job Simon hadn't arrived yet. "We've decided to give you your presents later, in a little after party back at home."

"You didn't have to get me anything," Jace said, growing tired of that sentence.

"Whatever. Who's already here?" Isabelle inquired.

"So far, just Luke and Magnus really. I thought Clary was supposed to be coming with you two?" said Jace accusingly.

"She's waiting outside for the mundane. Sorry... _Simon_," corrected Alec after a glare from his sister. "Old habits die hard."

"I should have known," said Jace. Tiny stabs of annoyance pierced his insides. He should have known she'd be waiting for him. He guessed that Clary's old habits died hard too.

"Do you want a drink or anything?" asked Alec.

"I'm alright, thanks," replied Jace. Alec shrugged and followed his sister to the bar and Jace shoved his hands into his pockets moodily, turning around to wait for the next guest.

The next guest turned out to be Maia, in a simple gold dress that set off her skin tone surprisingly well. She had taken out her braids for the occasion and her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. Jace was happy to see her, for a reason he couldn't quite place. Maybe it was because she did look very pretty. Maybe even pretty enough to unglue Simon from Clary's side for a few minutes. Jace mentally slapped himself.

"Thanks for coming," he said to Maia as she neared the bottom of the stairs.

"Thanks for the invite," she replied, nodding. Her eyes were darting around the room. "And happy birthday."

"Thanks." Jace could think of nothing else to say. He and Maia had never really had that much in common. Or maybe they'd never really had the chance to actually talk properly. Jace didn't know, but he didn't really feel like making a new friend tonight.

"Is um... is Simon here yet?" Maia asked, a little colour creeping onto her cheeks.

"No. Didn't you see Clary upstairs? She's waiting for him," Jace explained.

Maia let out a little giggle, a girly, sweet sound. "Oh boy, I saw Clary. _Someone's_ in for a treat tonight..." She quirked her eyebrows at Jace and carried on past him to the bar where she struck up conversation with Luke and left Jace wondering what in the name of the Angel she meant by that.

It turned out, he didn't have long to wait to find out. He had barely turned back around before movement at the top of the stairs caught his eye. Clary stood on the very top step in a long, emerald green gown that skimmed the floor. Her shoulders were practically bare, but for two diagonal straps and her vivid scarlet hair was thrown over one shoulder, spilling from a sparkly clip in soft curls. She looked tiny and delicate, her body language suggesting that she had absolutely no idea that she was taking someone's breath away at that very moment. She was standing slightly side-on and it was only then that Jace realised why.

Standing next to her, on the step below but still slightly taller than her, was Simon. Their fingers were interlocked, Simon was smiling wryly and saying something to Clary that was making her smile reluctantly in return. The warmth that had flooded Jace's being at the sight of Clary suddenly turned to ice and he felt frozen and numb all over. She and Simon began to descend the steps and Jace felt a strong desire to kick something. Something expensive.

Halfway down the staircase, Clary's eyes found him and he watched as a dark flush stole across her cheekbones. Jace's limbs were feeling as though they were made of ice that was slowly melting. He hoped she could see what she did to him, he tried so hard to convey it in his eyes. She reached the bottom step and Simon leaned down, pushing a curl of her hair back to whisper something in her ear. Jace repressed an urge to punch him up to the top of the stairs and push him back down.

Jace still couldn't take his eyes off Clary. Up close he could smell her soft flowery scent, could count the freckles on her shoulders, could see where she bit her lip and could see the nerves in her eyes. She was nervous. Good.

"Happy birthday," said Simon, forcing Jace to finally look away from Clary. He fixed Simon with a lazy stare.

"Thanks, bloodsucker. You know, I think you'd probably go check at the bar, I'm not sure whether they do Bloody Marys."

Jace heard Clary exhale in annoyance, but Simon just shrugged. "Whatever. I'm gonna go speak to Maia. I'll come find you later, Clary."

He moved away with his odd new-found grace and left Jace alone with Clary. She was watching Simon walk away. Jace had the feeling she would rather be looking anywhere but at him, and now that they were alone, he didn't have a clue what to say to her. Should he tell her she looked nice? Of course not, because 'nice' was an understatement. Should he thank her for coming? No, because he knew she wouldn't have missed it for the world. He needn't have worried about what to say, Clary made the first move.

"It looks nice in here. Did Maryse do all this?"

"She sure did. And I'm guessing Isabelle did all... this?"

His eyes moved over her, drinking her in. The silky dress was the exact same colour of her eyes, which were rimmed with black and gold. She fidgeted self-consciously as his eyes finished their appraisal of her.

"Yeah. I feel stupid," she admitted.

Jace looked her directly in the eye. "You look beautiful."


	3. Chapter 3

**For those of you asking in reviews, this isn't really set in a particular point in time. I think of it as after CoA and the Taki's conversation, but maybe after other discussions on Jace and Clary's part. In other words, they've progressed from Taki's but are still attempting to be brother and sister. Failing miserably, as you can see here.**

**To everyone who has reviewed – thank you so much! I love reading all the feedback and it means a lot that you want me to update. Keep them coming, loyal readers! :)**

**And now, without further ado...**

**Chapter 3**

Clary couldn't stop fidgeting. She had told Alec and Isabelle to go inside so that she could wait for Simon, and she was glad of the chance to be alone for a few minutes. She tried to clear her head but it was buzzing, buzzing with a strange, disorientating excitement that was making her teeth chatter, even though it was hardly cold.

Simon had already text her telling he was going to be a tad late. Public transport was not a friend of his; he was rarely on time anywhere when he had to catch a bus. She wondered whether he would take the 'formal' status of the event seriously. Clary hoped that he would. She didn't much fancy walking down the large staircase in front of everyone, accompanied by Simon wearing a frayed t-shirt with some ironic, humorous catchphrase across the front. No one would get it.

Clary was so busy praying that Simon would turn up smartly dressed that she almost didn't notice him hop off the bus at a bus stop in front of her, as smartly dressed as it was possible for him to be. He wasn't wearing a tux – she doubted he owned one - but he wasn't as inconspicuously casual as she'd expected him to be. Simon wore a simple black shirt, a little over-ironed (probably by Mrs Lewis) and a grey tie, with black trousers and... were those _shoes_? Real _men's_ shoes, like businessmen wore. Clary couldn't stifle a giggle. She had never seen Simon in anything but beaten-up trainers before.

"You scrub up well," she said, as he neared her. She reached up to straighten out his collar affectionately. He barely even noticed – he had a slightly dazed expression on his face.

"So do you... Clary you look..."

"Ridiculous?" Clary interrupted. "God, I know, this is all Isabelle's fault, I told her I didn't want anything fancy but she wouldn't settle for anything less than this dress and then she all but _tied me up_ to try and tame my hair and -"

She stopped when she saw the look on Simon's face. "Clary... I can't even think of any words to tell you how... pretty you look." He deliberated a little bit before deciding on the word 'pretty', as though he was trying to think of a more convincing alternative. 'Pretty' worked for Clary.

"I do? Well, I'll be damned," she said, linking her arm through his.

"No, I think that's me actually," said Simon as they headed towards the entrance. "Eternally damned, thank you very much."

Clary laughed, still a little anxious but her nerves had been eased with the familiarity of Simon. If she hadn't been his best friend and therefore so familiar with him, she probably would have taken into account how his newly pale skin contrasted quite nicely with his huge dark eyes. How the strands of hair that fell across his forehead were like strokes of black ink across paper and how his eyelashes curled just so.

"What's up with you?" Simon asked as they entered the building. "You're shaking."

"Just cold is all," Clary insisted. She could hear the strains of a band from below now, could see the staircase looming before her. She could barely wait to see what waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, and yet she dreaded it also.

"You can't kid a kidder, Fray," said Simon, taking hold of her hand which had been resting at the crook of his elbow and holding it firmly in his cold hands. He squeezed it reassuringly and Clary squeezed back, suitably reassured, but still nervous all the while.

They reached the top of the stairs and Clary saw him immediately, as though her eyes were trained to find him. He was facing to the side slightly so that she could see his profile. He wore a white shirt and grey trousers. Simple, clean-cut and with a devastating effect, at least for Clary. An odd warmth started in the pit of her stomach and spread out to her fingertips and toes, making all her nerve endings come alive. She was suddenly very aware of the silky dress against her legs as she took each step, the slight tremble that was still coursing through her body, the sudden heat as they descended into the party. Her breath was coming in short, sharp puffs all of a sudden and Simon stopped.

"Clary," he said, standing on the step below her but keeping hold of her hand. She turned to look at him, pulling her eyes from Jace, who hadn't even yet noticed her. "Don't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous," Clary protested, a little too soon and definitely not convincingly enough.

"Sure you're not. I'd like to see you get down these stairs without apparently using me as your own personal bannister," Simon said. His voice was quiet, he was leaning closely into her and it was making her feel better, more at ease. She smiled reluctantly at him but there was a voice inside her, a horribly unwelcome voice. "_This_ is how brothers and sisters should be," it taunted. They carried on down the stairs, Clary feeling momentarily better, until her emerald eyes met with golden ones and she almost went to pieces with the intensity of his stare.

She felt colour flood into her cheeks and could no more prevent it from happening than she could tear her eyes away from her brother's. His face was expressionless and blank but his eyes held a blaze of emotion. Clary and Simon reached the bottom of the stairs and were in front of Jace before Clary even knew what was happening and up close it was almost unbearable. His shirt did nothing to hide the warrior in him – she could see through it to his slender, muscled arms, the permanent Marks on his chest...

She didn't realise that Simon had whispered into her ear until she felt him tuck some of her hair behind her ear. She wasn't even too sure what he had said to her, but was brought back to Earth when Simon addressed Jace.

"Happy birthday," he said, in a neutral tone. It meant a lot that he hadn't opened with some sarcastic, cutting remark. But she couldn't have expected anything less from Jace.

"Thanks, bloodsucker. You know, I think you'd probably go check at the bar, I'm not sure whether they do Bloody Marys."

Despite his ridiculous beauty, Clary could still find it in her to be annoyed at Jace. Simon, however, just shrugged carelessly and wandered off to find Maia. A thousand protests bubbled in Clary's brain – she didn't want to be left alone with Jace right now, not when she was finding it hard to form words. There was a short, tense silence in which Clary couldn't look at Jace, because she knew he was looking at her, and meeting his eyes again would certainly not help her become coherent.

Eventually, she found her voice and made a brave stab at normal conversation. "It looks nice in here. Did Maryse do all this?"

"She sure did," replied Jace. His eyes left hers and did an achingly slow assessment of her, from top to bottom. Clary felt as though she might be burning alive. "And I'm guessing Isabelle did all... this?"

Fidgeting under his burning gaze, Clary nodded. "Yeah. I feel stupid."

At this, Clary finally did look Jace in the eye and wished she hadn't. There was a fierceness there that she had never seen before. "You look beautiful," he said simply.

"I... so do you," she forced out. A horrible tension was building between the two of them.

"I know," smirked Jace in that overwhelming way of his. The mood was gone, the tension broken by his self-assuredness. For once, Clary was glad of it. She could not deal with the feelings raging inside her. Not tonight, at such a public, important event. Nor any other night, for that matter. "I think you're the last guest to arrive," Jace continued. "The last of the important ones, anyway."

"Luke's here?" Clary inquired.

"He's at the bar along with the majority of the guests. Who knew so much alcohol would be needed to endure tonight. Is this what family gatherings are always like?" Jace asked, turning so that he was stood next to Clary and surveying the room imperiously.

"You have no idea," murmured Clary.

* * *

Clary avoided Jace for the rest of the night. She positioned herself in between Luke and Simon as everyone sat down for their meal, which was ridiculously expensive and delicious. Jace wasn't even on the same table as her, luckily. He was between Isabelle and Alec at a table for what seemed to be the Lightwoods' most esteemed guests. Clary had never seen any of them before but they were quite obviously experienced Shadowhunters.

After the meal, the band struck up and couples took to the dance floor. Clary glued herself to Simon's side. She knew there was more chance of Valentine showing up with a singing Hallmark card for Jace than Simon showing off his 'unique' dancing skills, and so she figured it would be a safe bet to huddle with him in a corner until the evening ended.

Unlike Simon, who hadn't drank a drop all night (for obvious reasons), Clary had accepted a few glasses of white wine during the meal and felt a little light-headed. She cursed her height and stature once more, for making her such a lightweight drinker, but at least the alcohol had made her nerves dissipate. Sitting with Simon in the corner and listening to him describe, in detail, a raid he had executed on World Of Warcraft a few nights previously, she could have almost been at Java Jones' listening to Eric's horrific poetry, or sprawled out on the sofa at Luke's while they watched old Friends re-runs.

Clary had almost forgotten where she was when Maia appeared in front of Simon. She was blushing furiously but asked him confidently if he wanted to dance. Incredulously, Clary looked at Simon, expecting him to flat-out refuse, but he agreed and Maia's eyes lit up. Clary looked away, feeling as though she was intruding on a private moment. Simon took Maia's hand and they headed onto the dance floor, which was currently occupied with lots of people that Clary didn't know, all of them probably Nephilim, dancing elegantly. She wondered if there was such thing as a clumsy, awkward Shadowhunter. _Oh wait,_ she rectified. _Me._

With Simon gone, Clary felt very exposed and conspicuous, as though everyone in the room had noticed she was huddled in the corner like a pathetic wallflower. The song finished and Clary's eyes scanned the crowd, looking for Simon to return to her, but instead her eyes found Jace. He was heading towards her, his hands in his pockets and an odd quirk of a smile on his face. Nerves burst inside her again – while for most of the night her nerves had been quelled by the alcohol, this time it seemed to be fuelling them. She forced her face to remain neutral as Jace took up Simon's seat next to her.

"You don't look like you're enjoying yourself," said Jace. It wasn't a question and Clary could think of no response, so she shrugged. His proximity was stifling. "Pretty warm in here, isn't it," commented Jace. This wasn't a question either. Now that Clary thought about it, Jace had unbuttoned a few of the top buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. She looked away from him awkwardly. Couldn't he see what he was doing to her?

"I'm fine," said Clary.

"You look a bit flushed." There was amusement clear in Jace's voice. So he _did_ know what he was doing to her. How cruel of him to continue forcing her to endure his closeness like this.

"Shouldn't you be circulating?" Clary asked, changing the subject abruptly. "Mingling with the commoners?"

"I've had enough of circulating. And commoners for that matter. I came to ask if you wanted to dance," Jace replied, as casually as though he was asking her the time, or what the weather was like.

"Dance?" repeated Clary. "... I don't dance." She didn't even have to think about his offer before she turned him down. In fact, it would be positively dangerous to think about his offer. To imagine his arms around her, to think about the way his hand would press on the small of her back and perhaps brush against her bare skin. No, she would _not_ think those kind of thoughts.

If Clary had thought her answer would get rid of Jace, she was very wrong. "Okay," he said, simply. "Then would you like to go for a walk with me? Or don't you do that either?"

Clary fidgeted as she tried to think of an excuse. "This is your party... surely everyone will notice if you suddenly disappear." It was a lame excuse, and she knew it. As she looked at the guests on the dance floor and at the bar, she knew that it would be so easy for Jace to slip away unnoticed.

"Of course they wont." Jace stood up and offered Clary his hand. She felt taut, her every nerve ending standing to attention, waiting for the next move. He quirked his eyebrows at her in the most irresistible way and she felt her resolve crumble. There was only so much Jace Wayland charm a girl could take in one evening.

Her resolve may have deteriorated but that didn't mean she had to give herself up to him completely. She ignored his hand and stood up on her own, fixing him with what she hoped was a stolid, passive stare.

"Fine. I'll walk."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

In comparison, the air at the top of the staircase was cool and refreshing. Clary took large gulps of the colder air, hoping to rid herself of the wine-induced light-headedness. Unfortunately it didn't work. Jace began to lead her up another staircase which she hadn't noticed when she'd come in. It was longer and wound upwards in a loose spiral. By what she deemed must be about half way up, Clary was beginning to get out of breath.

"Keep up, Fray," said Jace lazily, having not even broken a sweat. Damn Shadowhunter training.

"I've asked you not to call me that," replied Clary through gritted teeth, trying to match his pace. She began to climb the stairs a little faster, determined to keep up with Jace. As she drew level with him, she stood on the hem of her dress and slipped, letting out a horrified squeal. She felt the bottom drop out of her stomach like she was on a rollercoaster, she groped for the bannister or something to hold onto, but then Jace was there, with his unparalleled reflexes. He caught her around the waist as though she were as light as a feather, and used his other hand on her shoulder to steady her.

His sudden closeness was like being plunged into a furnace. Their faces were too close, his hands too gentle, his scent too inviting... Clary jerked herself away.

"Thanks," she mumbled, brushing hair out of her face and unnecessarily adjusting her dress.

"No problem," shrugged Jace nonchalantly, but she could see hurt in his eyes when she had jerked away. What was wrong with him? He was the one who had agreed it would be better to just be siblings. Sure, siblings would stop each other from tumbling down the stairs but would they enjoy the way their bodies pressed against each other, the heat it created? No, Clary didn't think so.

They continued up the stairs in an uncomfortable silence until Jace pushed open a heavy wooden door. The two of them stepped outside and Clary was startled to find that they were on the roof. She did not have good experience of roofs. They usually involved Jace and flying demon motorbikes, or Jace jumping off them, or Jace doing something else reckless and stupid. She voiced this opinion.

"You seem to like roofs," she commented. "But everytime you're on one, you do something silly."

Jace smiled, but didn't look at her. He was looking out at the horizon. The roof was high enough that they could see over the surrounding buildings. It wasn't a cloudy night, the stars were out in force and where the horizon met the sky it was hard to tell which were stars and which were lights from buildings. It was quiet up here. The band were still slightly audible, as was the chatter from the party below. There wasn't any annoying, buzzing traffic below them. It was a relatively peaceful night as far as Manhatten was concerned.

"Nice up here, isn't it?" Jace seemed to read her mind. "I found it earlier today when I was trying to escape Maryse and her table plans."

"It is nice," Clary agreed. She hadn't realised, the alcohol must have been numbing her senses slightly, but she had begun to shiver. It was much colder up here on the rooftop; her breath was appearing as a mist before her.

"Cold?" Jace reached out for her and before Clary could protest, he started to rub his hands up and down her arms, using the friction to warm her up. It wasn't the friction of his hands on her skin that worked however. It was more the friction that had appeared between the two of them, as it always did when they were left alone in a situation like this. Clary regretted the wine more and more as she looked up at her brother. Even in her ridiculous heels she was quite a bit shorter than him but she found that she was minding it less and less. If she was any taller she wouldn't have the beautiful view of Jace that she always had from her height – all jawbones and cheekbones and eyelashes and lips. A few more inches might mean that, when he hugged her she wouldn't be able to turn her face into the place where his neck met his shoulder and breathe in his soft scent.

"Thanks," she murmured. Her skin was awakening to him, she wanted more than anything to fall into his embrace, trace his collarbone with her fingertips, hear him whisper her name in the way that only he could. His hands still continued in their attempts to warm her up and she could hear Jace's breathing become more and more laboured, as though he was finding it hard to keep his breath even. Clary knew the feeling. Why must they keep fighting this? Why must they continue to pretend that they didn't affect each other in the ways that they did?

"_For I never dreamed that you..."_

Why couldn't the rest of the world accept that they were two people who made each other happier than anyone else? Why were obstacles constantly thrown in their way? Surely the fact that their lives were constantly endangered was enough punishment for the two of them. They had both lost parents in the most tragic of ways, both grown up not knowing who they really were. Why had fate thrown them a lifeline in the shape of each other, only to have it snatched away in the cruellest way imaginable?

"_...would be loving sentimental me..."_

"Are you... singing?" Clary asked uncertainly.

"I like this song," Jace answered, a little defensive. Clary blinked up at him for a few seconds and let out a little laugh.

"Figures," she said.

"What figures?"

"That you'd be able to sing too. I mean, what _can't_ you do, Jace Wayland?"

His hands stopped rubbing her arms abruptly; he was very close to her and she hadn't realised until now. Their eyes met; golden and green, and the feelings that bubbled up inside Clary could not be supressed for much longer.

"This," Jace whispered, before brushing his lips over hers, achingly gently, like a butterfly's breath. His hands, behind her elbows, were urging her towards him and Clary complied wholly, leaning against him until she was sure she could be no closer. One of his hands slid up her bare back and cupped the back of her head as he continued to kiss her tenderly, like she were made of glass. She could feel his heartbeat thumping against her chest and she knew that her own was returning its call, letting Jace's heart know that she was there too, in this moment, feeling the same vociferous rush of emotion as he.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

He could have stayed there all night. Longer, maybe. Kissing her as softly as he could, so as not to scare her. He played with her hair and traced the straps of her dress across her back, and every now and then when he would pull on her bottom lip with his teeth, she would make the most delicious little noise. But that wasn't to say he was the only one eliciting such responses. One of her hands was pressed against his collarbone, her fingers stroking his neck and sometimes the girl in his arms seemed to decide that there was still too much space between them and press herself further to him. She was driving him insane, but he knew that one wrong move, one slightly too forceful kiss might have her running for the stairs and leave him waiting for another stolen moment like this for weeks, perhaps months.

"Clary?"

A voice that was unmistakably Simon echoed up the staircase they'd ascended earlier. Jace should have known it was too good to last. Clary jumped away from him as though an electric shock had pulsed through her. Her lips were slightly swollen, spots of red on her cheekbones, her hair slightly mussed. Tell-tale signs of what had been occurring, Jace thought wryly, also privately thinking that Clary had never looked better.

"I'm sorry," Clary whispered. She gave him one heartfelt look to tell him just how sorry she was, before fleeing down the staircase and leaving Jace standing on the rooftop gazing after her.

"Damn," he said, with feeling.

The rest of the evening passed without much incident. By the time Jace had returned from a session of brooding on the roof, guests had started to leave. Clary had been right; people had noticed his absence, but were not bothered enough to come looking for him and not astute enough to realise that Clary had disappeared for a while too. Simon, however, was obviously bothered and astute enough to put two and two together. He looked daggers at Jace for the remaining hour of the party, before leaving with Luke.

Maryse and Robert told Jace, Alec, Isabelle, Clary and Max to head back home while they helped clear up the party decorations. The minute they stepped back into the Institute, Clary made her excuses, carefully avoiding Jace's eye, and disappeared to her room. Isabelle insisted that Jace accompany them to the library for their 'family present-giving' session which included a comic book from Max, bought with his own pocket money, and Shadowhunter gear from Alec and Isabelle. Eager for the night to be over, Jace accepted their gifts gratefully before excusing himself also and heading for his room.

Jace was just contemplating getting out of his stiff party clothes, having a hot shower and getting into bed when he pushed open the door to his room and found Clary sitting on his bed, looking a little bit sheepish. The green dress was gone; now she wore grey sweats and a simple black t-shirt that was a little baggy on her small frame. Her face was scrubbed clean of all make-up and her hair was up in a ponytail, slightly damp from a shower. Jace changed his mind. _This_ was when Clary was at her best.

"I hope you don't mind me waiting for you in here," she said. He could tell from the way she perched on the edge of his bed that she was a little on edge. Ready to make a run for it? He pondered. Probably. "I just wanted to give you your present."

"Present?" Jace echoed, a little surprised. But why should he be? It was his birthday after all. Presents were a standard.

"Of course. You didn't think I wouldn't get you anything? You got me something for my birthday." She was still on edge, fidgeting with something in her lap. Upon closer inspection, Jace realised it was a sketchpad.

"I did, didn't I," he mused.

"Just... don't look at it now," Clary said, standing up and handing him the sketchpad. "Wait til I'm gone, won't you?"

"I'll do no such thing," replied Jace, eager to see what was inside. He flipped open the front cover and found a message written in Clary's neat, small script.

_Jace,_

_This isn't nearly as useful as the gift you got for me, but I hope you like it._

_Happy birthday, big brother._

_Clary x_

The sketchpad, it turned out, was full of doodles. Random sketches of steles, a few drawings of demon motorbikes, even an in-depth drawing of the Insititute. Clary's talent was obvious. When Jace reached the last page his breath caught slightly. It was a picture so accurate it could almost have been a photograph – of him and Clary sitting atop a motorbike above a Manhattan skyline. The image provoked such a powerful memory in Jace, the feeling of the freezing wind whipping through his hair while Clary bunched her hands in his jacket, her carefree laugh floating past his ears. He looked up at Clary, a little lost for words, which was unusual for him.

"Happy birthday," she said, carefully standing on her tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the cheek before exiting his room and closing the door behind her. Jace sat down on the bed, still looking at the drawing. He had never had anything like this before – a personal possession, something he might take with him if he were to live somewhere else, something he might show his children one day.

All thoughts of a shower gone from his mind, Jace lay down on his back, his arms crossed over the sketchpad, hugging it to his chest. His mind whirled for a while with events of the night, the green dress, the kisses on the roof...but eventually it settled on that blissful memory, flying over the city with Clary.

"_But Jace, all the stories are true..."_

FIN.

Thanks so much for reading, I appreciate your comments more than you know!

I will be writing more of these short stories, mainly involving Jace and Clary because I just love them. But possibly with some other pairings thrown in to mix things up. Gotta keep myself occupied until March 09!


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